A list of Rules
by goldsworthys
Summary: She admires him from afar. He knows nothing of her.
1. one

**A/N:** Hi everyone. This really isn't much, and it's just the beginning and stuff. The idea for this fic came from a photo on tumblr, and it _technically _is supposed to be about Supernatural ((a+ show everyone. if you want to get out of watching degrassi try watching supernatural or doctor who)) but I thought I would change it in my own whole "rules" part will be explained probably towards the end if I explain it at all ((because there was like an 'explanation' about how the rules came about in the picture but it's really not necessary)) Also, I know I made Clare look like a total vulnerable piece of shit in this but that's how I want her to look in this fic and I'm sorry if you don't like that lol. This is more or less just a friendship fic, plus Clare's crush kind of fic. Don't expect a lot of heated makeout sessions or kissing at all unless it's acting. ALSO. If you are here and wondering "Where is Celestica?" I will update eventually, I'm just having a bit of writers block when it comes to it. This is just a light hearted, less than drugged out fic that I wanted to write. Do not fret though because I'll update I promise.

**Rating: **Woah this isn't an M rated fic what? I'm rating this T in case I want to use mild swear words here and there

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Degrassi why would I write fanfiction for it?

* * *

**one**: personal space; he is not comfortable with the study of the intricacies of his face.

She watches him constantly from across the classroom. She watches the way that he colours in his fingernails with sharpie, and the way his headphones sit obnoxiously on his neck. Her eyes pick up every little detail. Like the way his hair is a little bit too greasy and the way his skin is completely unblemished, which is surprising for a guy so young. She wishes that they sat only a little bit closer to each other that she might be able to see what he smells like. Perhaps lilacs. Though she doesn't know why she assumes he would smell like flowers, rather than what he probably does smell like: smelly boy. But she still wishes that it was possible.

And when his eyes flicker in her direction, she looks away. She can't let him see that she was staring. She can't let him know that she thinks he is beautiful. When she closes her eyes she can still imagine him. The bell rings. Her eyes are still closed shut. She's smiling, because she's thinking about how pretty he looks. She's dreaming about what he could actually be like in person. She's dreaming about the sound of his voice.

"Why were you staring at me?"

Her eyes flutter open, and he's standing in front of her desk. The classroom is mostly empty, except for a few straggling students filling their bags with their belongings and scooting out the door. And then it's the two of them, and the english teacher. She feels sick to her stomach. She's too sick to her stomach to take in a deep breath to see if he smells like lilacs like she's hoping.

"I… I wasn't." She whispers.

"Yes you were." He argues, "You've been staring at me all class period. It's weird."

"I'm sorry."

She starts to do it again. The staring at him. She's admiring him secretly in her head about the way his bangs swoops in front of his eyes and makes it difficult for him to see her, and for her to see his eyes. Eyes that she's been imagining because she can't see them. She likes the way that his top lip is significantly larger than the bottom, and she constantly imagines her own set on his. And that just brings her to the topic of his taste, and how much she'd like to know it. Her eyes wander to his attire. He dresses in all black, every day. A black jacket and a black shirt and black skinny jeans. Sometimes he might spice up his wardrobe and wear black skinny jeans with white bleached spots. Those were her favourite of his.

"You're doing it again."

She gasps slightly. "I don't mean too." Her voice shakes. It is truly impossible for a girl like her not to find him so delicious.

"Well stop it. I don't want my English partner to be such a creep."

Her eyelashes flutter. "Wh-What? What are you talking about?"

Had he _picked her? _Out of all the girls in the class had _he _picked _her_? She didn't even know he knew she existed! Her heart rate sped up, and before she knew it her palms were sweaty. He could have picked the boy that he talked to often, Adam. He could have picked the girl with the pig tails. He could have picked any one that he wanted to and he picked _her?! _

"Dawes assigned us as partners like, twenty minutes ago. Weren't you listening?"

_Oh. _That made far more sense.

"Why else would I be talking to you?" He asked. Her heart breaks only a little, and she leans back into her chair. She sighs.

"I don't know." She picks up her books and her binders and starts to slide them into her bag. They look silly being the only ones in the room. They wouldn't look silly though if this was her imagination. Because if this was her imagination he wouldn't be here to make her feel little, he would be here, trying not to blush and ask her to the dance. Some dance. Whatever dance was next. But this was not her imagination.

"So I figure that you and I should start working on the project." He says as she begins to stand up. She slings her book bag over her shoulder and stares blankly at him. _What project? _

"What project?"

"Jesus, were you listening at all?" he rolls his eyes. Now that they're both standing, she can get a clear view of them. They're green. They're pretty. He's pretty. "The video project." He holds up a small packet. "Do you want to get lunch and –"

"Yes!" She blurts out before he can finish his sentence. He stares at her oddly, but decides to pretend it didn't happen.

"Do you want to get lunch and go over the packet?" He asks again, and this time she doesn't say anything. Because now she's embarrassed. She nods. She nods because she's too afraid now to say anything else without looking like a total fool. "Okay. I'm going to go take care of a few things, and I'll meet you by the flag pole at the end of the day, does that sound all right?"

"Sounds great. I'll see you then."

She's trying to keep herself composed and not a frazzled, excited mess before he walks away from her. And then when he's out of view, around the corner and far off down the hallway, she goes bonkers. She squeals, and she claps her hands wildly and has to fight herself from dancing the whole way to her locker. It's almost the end of the day, and she's not so sure that she can make it. Because when they're finally together, eating something and discussing this video project that she's completely oblivious of, it will all happen.

It won't just be her imagination anymore. It'll be real. This will really truly _finally _be real!


	2. two

**two: **when he laughs at you, don't take it to heart.

She waited at the flag pole right when the bell had rang. In fact, she had left class a little early just so she could get there on time. She didn't want it to look as if she was waiting, but… she was waiting. Perhaps this was a little strange, for her. She was acting far more punctually than she usually would. She was falling under the spell of a boy, and she wasn't scolding herself for it either. She held her chemistry book close to her chest, because she doesn't feel like putting it back into her book bag right now. She likes the romanticism of holding a book against her chest, leaning against the flag pole and staring off into the sky, daydreaming about this boy.

"Were you waiting long?" His voice interrupts her thoughts and she blinks for a moment. He was standing in front of her.

"Oh, no." She lies. But then her lying gets the better of her, and she caves. "Actually, yes. Like fifteen minutes."

He snorts. "We got out nine minutes ago. Don't over exaggerate."

"No, really!" She exclaims. He turns to walk away, and she follows suit. He's walking quickly and it's a little hard for her to catch up. "I left seventh period early to come wait here." He stops in his tracks, making her stumble slightly.

"Why in the world would you do that?" He asks, and she shrugs her shoulders slightly. And then he starts to laugh. Not madly or anything, and not very loud either. Just a harmless, laugh at her. She shifts her position a little, unsure whether she should be upset that he's laughing at her or not. Because he clearly is not laughing with her. Once he finally finishes his brief moment of hilarity, he waves his hand in another direction. "Come on. I'll take you to my car."

"Oh, will you be driving us there?" She's a bit disappointed she won't be able to eat the lunch that she packed. Peanut butter and banana sandwiches.

"Yeah. We can just go to a McDonalds or something." He says. She's a lot disappointed now, because McDonalds is just old fast food. Junk food. They could at least go someplace that she could look fancy eating. Not someplace she could look pathetic eating a combo meal of fries and a quarter pounder with cheese.

"I packed a peanut butter and banana sandwich, though." She whispers, and he laughs again. This time though, it's just a loud, simple one-laugh kind of thing. Not laughter.

"That's so nine years old."

"No it isn't." She argues. "Peanut butter and banana is a delicacy."

"Whatever."

The two of them are quiet as he leads her around the school building to the back parking lot. He parks his car back there. She doesn't know what kind of car he drives but oh boy is she in for a surprise. She wonders why she hasn't seen him with his car before. Why she hasn't followed him around the building to the parking lot to watch him drive away in his car every single day after school. Like how she's watched him every single day in their English class.

"Well, here's Morty." He slides his hands into his pockets and stares at his car for a moment, almost as if he's waiting for her to say something. Maybe he expects her to be all innocent and soft and try to act as if she thinks his car is fascinating when in fact she is terrified by it.

She had no idea that he would be driving her in a hearse.


	3. three, four and five

**three: **don't insult his car  
**four: **or his music  
**five: **or the way he eats

"You drive a hearse?" She squeaks, and he laughs softly and nods. He loves his car. But she is truthfully scared.

"Yep. Pride and joy. It was my dad's and then he gave it to me."

She doesn't question any of this because when she looks at him, and then back at the car – she can see that it all molds together as one. Black clothes – black car. Skull and cross bones accessories – car that carries dead people. She processes it all as one and tries hard to keep her mouth shut and not make some sort of witty comment. She doesn't want him to think she's judging him. Because technically she isn't. She just likes to over think things.

He doesn't hold the door open for her, as she hopes he might. He just unlocks the thing and she climbs in afterwards. The inside gives her that scent that she's been wondering about. The time she thought that he might smell like lilacs. But that's all history now. Because his car smells like cheap cologne and little pine tree air fresheners. In fact, if you looked closely at his car, you could see hanging from the mirror was two little cardboard pine trees.

"Your car is um, it's um…" She shuts her mouth after a moment because he shoots her this look that says something like _insult my car, and I'll freaking kill you. _So she doesn't say a word.

"So, McDonalds, then." He says. He jams his keys into the ignition, and she watches as his sharpie coloured finger nails grip the key and turn it slowly. But when he glances over at her slightly, she averts her vision. She doesn't want to be caught staring at him _again. _"Can I play music?" he asks, and she smiles.

"Of course you can." She answers politely.

But she regrets her decision to allow him to play music when she realizes how loud it is. Pedestrians could hear it. It was loud, and obnoxious, and now she realizes why he wears such large headphones. It's to keep the sound away from everyone else. And perhaps it's for everyone else's benefit more than his. She tries to remain calm the car ride there. Not to make any sudden sounds or ask to turn the music down. She wondered how someone could listen to such 'tunes' without their ears bleeding.

How could she be so head over heels for a boy whose music clashed so hard with her own?

Oh, that's right. She found him totally gorgeous.

She tries not to watch, or even to listen as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel or sing a line now and again. She thinks that's kind of precious, the way his mouth opens and singing comes out. And he might not be the best vocalist you've ever heard but he could hit a note or two. Maybe even three if he tried hard enough. She wishes slightly that maybe she knew the song too so that she could sing along. So that he might think she was cute because she knew the words too.

But she doesn't know the words.

She hasn't been to McDonalds since she was little, because when she was seven or eight her parents watched that _Supersize Me _film and forbade her or her sister to go eat there ever again. It was a sad day in her house when she wasn't allowed to bring French fries back home after church.

They pull up to the low-class eating establishment, and he hops out of the car as if it's nothing. He doesn't open the door for her, he doesn't even seem to recognize her existence. But she is far too into him to overlook his rude attitude towards her at this moment. She jumps out as well, closing the door behind her and skips to catch up with him as he makes his way inside. Again, he fails to hold doors open for her, but she overlooks this as they go inside and wait in the short line.

They both order their own meals and pay separately. He gets a big-mac with extra cheese and no pickles, a fries and a large McFlurry. She gets a small fries and a small drink. She can't possibly let herself look like a pig while eating in front of him. The food arrives quickly, and they both pick up their trays and she stares around the room, looking for a place to sit. He points off somewhere, and she follows. The awkward not-so couple take their seats in a small booth in the corner of the fast food restaurant, and he gives a low growl, unwrapping his burger from its papery shell and dives into it, taking a large bite. She tries to stare wide-eyed at him while he envelopes himself in a burger. He is definitely not as graceful in this moment as she always made him out to be.

"So?" She squeaks, taking a medium sized nibble at a French fry. "The project?"

"Oh, yeah." He mumbles, wiping a bit of barbeque sauce off the corner of his mouth with his right hand. "So what Shakespeare play should we do for the video project?" He asks, shoving a few fries into his mouth. She decides not to watch him as he nearly makes a fool out of himself eating like this. She'd ought to save her good visions of him.

"How about…" She trails off for a moment, wondering if the words she's about to spew out might come off as a little too eager. But nevertheless, she flashes him a small smile and says: "How about _Romeo and Juliet_?"

He stops chewing for a moment, and his face twists up as he thinks about her offer. She has to bite the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from giggling at how cute he looks right now. She stuffs a fry into her mouth and remains calm. "Okay." He answers, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "Yeah,_ Romeo and Juliet works_."

She tries to keep herself calm as he agrees with her. Because Romeo and Juliet means a kissing scene – and a kissing scene means that she will be able to know what his sweet lips taste like.

But hopefully his lips won't taste how they look right about now, covered in McDonalds and curled into an awkward glance.

"You're staring again."

"Sorry."


End file.
